I know not. He
saw, or thought he saw, a tall, smiling lady, hooded in blue over white,
holding up a child; he saw, or thought for a moment that he saw, the
Image of all Mothers displaying the Image of all Sons. His fingers
pattered over his scapular. "Eh, my Lady the Virgin! What dost thou
here, glorifying this place?" As soon as he had said it he might have
known that he was a fool; but Vanna's large grey eyes loomed upon him to
swallow him up, her colour of faint rose glowed over him and throbbed.
_Vera incessu patuit dea!_ "By her presence ye shall judge her," quoth
the prior to himself, and hid his eyes.

There was a hush upon all the group in the chamber, during which you
could have heard afar off the nasal discords of the brethren in choir
droning through an office. No one spoke. The prior's lips moved at his
prayers; Fra Corinto looked frowningly before him; La Testolina was
fidgety to speak, but dared not; Vanna, her long form like a ripple of
moonlight in the dusk, cooed under her voice to the baby; he, unheeding
cause of so much strife in high places, held out his pair of puckered
hands and crowed to the company. So with their thoughts: the prior
thought he had seen the Holy Virgin; Fra Corinto thought the prior an
old fool; La Testolina hoped his reverence had not the colic; and Vanna
thought of nothing at all.

Fra Corinto it was (looking not for Madonna in a baggage), who, by
discreetly coughing, brought his master back to his senses. The prior
cleared his throat once or twice, looked at the young woman, and felt
quite himself. Ridiculous what tricks a flicker of sunlight will play on
the wisest of men!

"Monna Vanna," said he, "I have not brought you here to judge between
you and my brother Battista, now at discipline in his cell. The flesh,
which he should have tamed, has raised, it appears, a bruised head for
one last spite. My brother was bitten, and my brother fell into sin.
Whether, as of old, the tempter was the woman, it is sure that, as of
old, the eater was a man. I will not condemn you unheard, lest I incur
reproach in my turn. But our order is in peril; the enemy is abroad,
with Envy, Hatred, and Malice barking on their leashes. What can the
poor sheep do but scatter before the wolves? Fra Battista, his penance
duly done, must leave Verona; and you, my sister, must do penance, that
God be not mocked, nor the Veronese upraised to mock Him."

Of this solemn appeal, Vanna, to all seeming, unde